Moment
by Adelheide1
Summary: The moment after a tough hunt


Sam careened around the corner and would have missed Dean completely if he hadn't happened to glance at the shadows as he ran by. More accurately, he saw Deans legs, sticking out of the shadows, splayed open as if Dean decided to sit down on the floor and take a break. It wasn't so innocuous when Sam sank down to the floor and his eyes adjusted to the gloom.

The only thing holding Dean up was a three foot length of rebar. Dean was pinned, like a butterfly specimen, to the wall behind him. Dean's head was slumped forward and for a terrifying second, Sam didn't think he was breathing. Then a drop of blood dripped from Dean's mouth and he huffed. The wave of relief nearly overwhelmed Sam.

"Dean!"

Dean moaned and lolled his head slightly, but otherwise didn't move.

Sam gingerly tugged at the fabric around the wound. It was slick and sticky but wasn't bleeding much. The rebar was packing the blood vessels and tissue. Of course, the rebar had to be removed and when that happened, Dean was going to bleed a gusher. Sam gently jiggled the rebar, testing it's firmness. Dean grunted and coughed harder.

"Dean? Can you hear me?"

"...fuck..." Barely audible.

"Dean? Dean, come on, man. Wake up."

"Sammy?" Dean sounded confused. He lolled his head again, not quite raising it.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me. I need you to wake up for me."

"Can't."

"Yes, you can. Come on." Sam grabbed Dean's jaw with both hands and gently raised his head. Dean's face was frighteningly cold. "Open your eyes. Come on, Dean. Stay with me. Wake up."

One eye reluctantly slit open. "Sammy?"

"It's me."

"Wha's wrong with m'arm..?" Dean's speech was faint and slurred.

iAside from the fact that you've been stapled to the wall by a harpy? Nothing./I Sam fumbled for his cell phone, hitting the speed dial and slapping the phone to his ear while he shuffled forward slowly, afraid to touch Dean. "Come on, come on..." Voice mail. "Shit! Bobby! It's Sam. Call me right now." He pocketed the device and reached for Dean's head. "Okay, Dean, I need you to look up."

"Why?" Dean sighed.

"Because I said so. Look up. Now."

It was an effort for Dean to raise his head. Almost like gravity had an extra hold on him. But he got half way and Sam helped him with the rest of the way. One eye slit open. "Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"Fuck you."

Sam smirked. If Dean could joke, some of him was okay. "I'm not sure what to do here, Dean."

"Ssshouldn't you sweep me off my feet and carry me to the car, Sasquatch?" Dean's voice was a bit stronger. Sam had crap light and couldn't really see. He fished a penlight out of his pocket, inadvertently making Dean wince when he turned it on. The first thing he saw was red. The wound was ragged enough that Dean lost a lot of blood before the muscles relaxed around the rebar. Dean's entire left side was shiny and dark. Dean was pale. Neither a good sign. "Wha's it look like?"

"That your arm is fucked."

"No, really. Sugar coat it for me."

"You're...pinned..." Sam grimaced and gestured. "To the wall. Like a big bug."

"Oh yeah? I don't remember that." Sam looked up at Dean's spaced out expression. Endorphins were a wonderful thing, but soon Dean's were going to wear out. "Bug. Huh. What kind?"

Sam took a deep, steadying breath. "You really want me to answer that?"

"Dude, you total'y say butterfly because you are tha' much of a girl."

Sam's phone rang, scaring Sam badly. He shifted his weight to his knees and answered. "Bobby! Thank God!"

i"Slow down, Sam. What's going on?"/i

Sam recapped the highlights. Dean added dippy commentary here and there. Sam calmed down and he and Bobby realized that to get Dean free, Bobby was going to need to bring tools from the salvage yard. Luckily, Bobby was only an hour away, if he broke a lot of speeding laws. However, that meant an hour of Dean without medical care. The way Dean was fading in and out, that wasn't a feasible option. Sam would call for an ambulance. No, he really wasn't sure he could come up with a coherent story, but he would meet Bobby at the hospital. Sam dialed 911.

"Yes, he's conscious. Yes, I'm sure."

"I really am," Dean huffed.

"Okay. I do. I will. Get here–fast."

"Bring saws!" Dean managed to shout as Sam hung up. The effort made him wince. "Shit!"

"Dean, I'm going to run out to the car."

"You can't."

"Yes, I need to. I'm going to get our first aid kit and make sure the ambulance can find us. I'm coming right back"

"No, wait!" Dean flapped his right arm at Sam. "Dude, don't leave me in here by m'self."

"I'm going to be right back."

Dean tried to sit up. Pain roared through him because his eyes went wide and awake and he hollered. Loud enough to echo. "SON OF A BITCH!"

"Jesus, Dean, calm down! You can't go anywhere! I can. And I need to..."

Dean grabbed Sam's hand tight, glaring at Sam with all his new-found lucidity. "I mean it, Sam. Stay here." Then a quiet, "Please."

Sam finally got it. He nodded and sat down with his legs criss-crossed, all the while in Dean's steady grip. He settled and put his hand over Dean's. "Okay," he said calmly. "I'll wait until I hear them. Okay?"

Dean relaxed, nodding slightly and shifting again. The grip on Sam's hand became painful. "Fuckin' ow!"

"Take it easy. They'll be here in a few minutes."

"Saysh the guy with nothing big and metal in him."

"I bet they'll bring drugs."

"Oh yeah?"

"bGood/b drugs."

"Awesome. I hope they haf Dem'rol."

A few silent seconds ticked by. Dean relaxed his grip and concentrated on breathing and staying still. Sam tried to think of some kind of story. iWhy, yes, officer, my brother did fall. On rebar. Backwards./I Dean's hand flexed.

"They'd better get their asses here, Sam."

"They are."

"I mean it." Dean grunted. A gift was the sound of sirens, very faintly, in the distance. Sam squeezed Dean's hand now.

"I can hear them."

Dean tried to breathe, his face misted in sweat. "Bull-shit...you cann nnot." Outside, the sound swelled, loud enough for Dean to hear.

"Told you."

"Whatever. Go get 'em in here, Sam. Thish is ser'ly startin' ta hurt."

Sam put his free hand over Dean's. "You going to be okay, if I go?"

"For a minute, yes! Quit holdin' my hand and go!"


End file.
